Deduction
by Mackity Blackwood
Summary: Great minds think alike. Perhaps, in this case, too much so. A brief exploration of a dangerous pair. Oneshot with potential for sequels. AU, probably.


**Deduction**

"You aren't from … around here, are you?"

"Ha! Indeed, no. You might say, by your standards, I am of more … intimidating stock."

"Frankly, aside from the _frightfully_garish taste in clothes, I see nothing terribly intimidating about you."

"… You _are_ a sharp-tongued one, aren't you?"

"So I've been told."

"You saw me cut down the soldiers standing outside this door, did you not?"

"Yes, it was highly informative. Tell me, what style is that? Judo? Jiu-jitsu? Fu Jow Pai? I'm _dying_ to know."

"Heh. _Dying_ to know, are you? You have a thirst for knowledge?"

"Not quenched once since birth, one might say."

"Fascinating. A pity you have so little to work with, given the primitive teachings of your realm."

"Last I checked, our 'primitive teachings' allowed us to capture you once. Or was that just a rumor?"

Staredown ensues.

Eventually, Loki smirks a little, leaning a bit more heavily on his walking stick as he adjusts his scarf and overcoat. "You _do_ have heart. There are few who could comprehend just what I am - yes, I know you are not fooled by my disguise - and continue to stare so steadily into death."

"It's something of a bad habit of mine. Terrible for my health, or so my doctor tells me." A brief smirk turns his lips upward before it disappears again.

"Perhaps we could … cut a deal, you and I. Normally, I do not parlay with mortals, but you are something of an extraordinary case among your fellows."

"While I'm not about to contradict you, I've no interest in making deals. You've nothing to offer me in the here and now, and I can't see what you could want from me."

"Knowledge for knowledge. An even, fair trade."

"Knowledge of _what_, precisely?"

"Ah. That is the beauty of it. I offer the knowledge of the many teachings and technologies and magics I have collected throughout my journeys."

"Interesting." Sherlock says nothing more, but the wheels are visibly turning in his head as he paces very slowly along the far side of the room, Loki watching him all the while.

"I will give you all the knowledge you could ask for from my personal stock. I ask in exchange the whereabouts of the ones called The Avengers."

Sherlock is silent for a time, lips pursed and eyes dark in thought, though the latter twinkle in the dim light of the small office.

After a while, the World's Only Consulting Detective turns his eyes on Loki once again, and there is a kindred mischief shining there. "All right. Deal. But I'm still unsure. I could give you my half of the goods and you could walk away then and there, leaving me with egg on my face."

"You wound me with your mistrust." Loki's tone is light. He's bantering with Sherlock, and they both know it. "But, as you say, you have little to trust in. Shall we shake upon it, then? It is a custom I know your people put much stock in."

"Very well," the Englishman agrees. "We shake, then we each give our share, then go on our own merry way."

"A fair bargain."

The two approach one another, Sherlock's lanky form very nearly a match for the Aesir prince in stature. Carefully, they half-shuffle slightly for a moment, sizing one another up, like two strange cats meeting in an alley.

They each give a slight smirk, Sherlock's characteristically lasting markedly less time than Loki's, before extending their left hands. Their hands meet. Clasp. One shake, up, then down, very business-like.

Then there is a crackling sound, and Sherlock feels a slight prick at his skin, just above his sternum.

"Here," Loki almost coos, tone low and dark, his smile wide and toothy. "A gift of good faith. My share of the bargain - your knowledge of the universe."

A not-entirely-pleasant tingling spreads upwards from the point of contact, making Sherlock's skin crawl over it as it creeps up towards his eyes. When it reaches them, his vision whites out for several seconds, and he feels a strange detachment from himself, rather like that time he'd been— Or, rather, had … _allowed_ **that woman** to get the jump on him in her upper room.

Slowly, his vision clears, though the lighting in the small room seems odd, somehow. Bluer? Bah, no matter. As he can see more and more clearly, he finds Loki watching him intently, that same smirk picking at the corner of his lip.

"And so?" he prompts, lifting one eyebrow. "How do you find your part of the bargain?" As he straightens a little, he draws his walking stick - which had changed vastly while not immediately within Sherlock's line of sight to grow a long and curling blade with a wicked point - away from the Englishman's chest, letting the end of the haft thump slightly against the tiled floor.

"… Extraordinary," Sherlock replies, his now alarmingly blue eyes shifting in his skull to peruse the flicking, dancing thoughts and theories that now fill his massive mind…


End file.
